


The Hope of Selene

by vifetoile



Category: DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: F/M, Families of Choice, Friendship, Gen, Goodbyes, Loads of characters, Love, Mostly Gen, Oneshot, Spaceships, Wanna go to space, space travel, the adventure continues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-27
Updated: 2020-07-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:34:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25558177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vifetoile/pseuds/vifetoile
Summary: Fifteen years ago, Della Duck wanted to give her boys the stars. Now, the kids get to chasing 'em. An idea for what the series finale may look like.
Relationships: Daisy Duck/Donald Duck, Della Duck & Donald Duck
Comments: 3
Kudos: 41





	The Hope of Selene

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: This is my idea for what the series finale may look like. It choked me up to write all these 'bon voyage's, but one can always look forward to a reunion, right?   
> If I didn't mention your favorite character, you must imagine that they are in the crowd, anyway. I would have loved to sneak Gandra Dee in somehow, for instance, but I just don't know her well enough yet. But I did work in a few of my favorites.   
> And of course, I don't own Ducktales, neither the show nor the earlier show nor the comics. This is purely for fun during quarantine.

She was a beautiful craft. Her main body was a silver crescent. The spherical engine that would power them through the stars was suspended between the crescent’s arms. Inside, she was as compact as a submarine. For six organic beings and one robot to live in harmony inside of her would require a lot of compromise, a lot of cooperation, and a lot of care.

Violet Sabrewing, acting as astronomical architect, had had a brainwave in designing the inside. It was just midnight two months back when she had realized that, in zero-g, the ceiling could in fact double as another floor. She had redesigned the interior completely, increasing storage and floor space. That would ease plenty of tension, though there was no telling what kind of messes they would get up to in the kitchen.

You could still catch Violet in a moment of daydream, gazing around at spaces she’d designed with her own hands. It must be a little like having one’s brain imposed outside of your head. Lena asked Violet so, and Violet’s reply had been a broad smile and an assurance: this was _wonderful_.

On the outside of the craft, Boyd was putting the finishing touches on the hull. The spaceship’s name was stenciled in both Terran and Lunar scripts, with a few small stars and moons sprinkled on to give spirit to the simple moniker:

 _The Hope of Selene_.

Selene herself was beaming brightly—of course she was in attendance, she wouldn’t miss _this_ for the world! Official launches of spaceships named in your honor didn’t happen every day.

Her brother, Storkules, was playing a supporting role today, namely by giving bear hugs to anyone who wanted one, and by handing out sunglasses to anyone who asked (that was Selene’s idea: when she beamed with happiness, it was literal, and it was _bright_ ).

The goddess had brought with her a picnic hamper full of Ithaquackan treats for the party, and she tucked in a few gifts and snacks for _The Hope_ ’s crew.

“So…” Penumbra, the expat from Moon, gave Selene an appraising look. More of a lavender glare. “According to Earthlings, you’re the _goddess_ of my home planet?”

“That’s right,” said Selene.

“And you’ve been the goddess for…” Penumbra rolled her fingers, looking for a figure.

“Five thousand years, give or take,” Selene answered. “Hello, Dewey!” she waved to the pilot, who was just coming into sight.

“Quick question, if I defeat you in single combat, do _I_ get to be the goddess of the moon?”

“Short answer, yes. Long answer, call me, okay?” Selene asked.

“Understood.” Penumbra turned away and muttered ominously, “New objective: beat up the goddess of the moon in single combat. Della? Guess what I’m doing this summer!” she called out, looking for her friend.

Meanwhile, Dewey had reached Selene and was practically dancing with glee all around her. “Look at you! You look fantastic! And better yet, look at _me!_ Eh? Eh?” He showed off his pilot epaulets and snazzy blue uniform with all the pride of a peacock. “How would you like a tour of _The Hope of Selene_ , brought to you by the ship’s own _pilot_?”

“That sounds delightful!” said Selene with a laugh. All thoughts of single combat had slipped away. She thought to herself that Dewey had grown up to be a fine duck, after all.

As for Dewey’s thoughts, after all these years, he still overflowed with gratitude towards the lunar goddess. She had been the first person to tell him that his mother was _good_. More than brave, more than morally adequate, that she was good and a wonderful friend. That was a kindness that Dewey would never forget.

Della herself, who was standing on the tarmac, did not feel very brave at the moment. She wouldn’t even describe herself as “morally adequate,” in all honesty. She felt grounded, and small, and very possessive.

She wanted to grab all her little ducklings—not only Huey, Dewey, and Louie, but Webby, Lena, Violet, and even funny little Boyd the android—and _hold them tight_ , and keep them from flying off into the black.

“So,” said Penumbra, interrupting her train of thoughts, “I’m going to challenge the moon to single combat. Care to help me train?”

“Of course! Anytime, Penny!” Della smiled at Penumbra. “You’re going to do _what,_ exactly?”

This was the mission of the starship _The Hope of Selene_ : to explore the planets and people of the Solar System, and to be emissaries from Earth to these new-to-them lifeforms and new-to-them civilizations. The crew might eat callowmilk ice cream on the twilight beaches of Venus, or surf from island to island on Jupiter’s crashing waves. To cross the asteroid belt would let them meet the elusive Neptunians and see the meadows of Pluto in pearlescent bloom. There was so much to see!

“Even if you don’t cross the asteroid belt, you’ve got a full itinerary,” Selene observed to Dewey, and to Lena, who had joined them. “Although I’ve heard Ceres has wonderful Harvest Festivals, you might want to pencil that in.”

“Oh, don’t worry, we won’t be gone indefinitely. We’ve got a few standing dates here on good ol’ Earth,” Dewey assured her. “For instance, _someone_ has to be the Champion of Midgard and defeat the World-Serpent, Jörmundgandr…” Dewey cracked his knuckles and rolled his shoulders. “Heard of Ol’ Jorry?”

“Oh, yes,” said Selene, obligingly. “I hear he’s a mean grappler.”

“It’s a tough job, but someone has to do it.”

“And there’s the Lunar Eclipse, right around January 20th, in six years,” Lena added. “It’s going to be a night for all kinds of magical mischief.”

“And do you want to contain this mischief,” Selene asked her, “Or add to it?”

“We’ll see,” Lena said, grinning. With a wiggle of her fingers, she conjured up a tiny moon in black and lavender sparkles. It soared around Selene and resolved into a charming, asymmetrical pair of moonstone earrings.

“A parting gift,” said Lena with a bow, “From the Sorcery Officer.”

“You’ve turned into a fine magician,” Selene told her.

“Thank you.” Lena’s smile dimmed. “That’s why I’ll be coming home. Someone has to make sure Magica DeSpell doesn’t abuse the next Lunar Eclipse to take over the world. _Again_.”

“On a happier note!” First Mate Huey bustled in, arms full of electronic equipment, “Hello, Selene, glad you could make it—Dewey, a hand, please?” (Dewey rolled his eyes but helped out all the same) “We _must_ be back in five years so that we can visit Grandma and Grandpa McDuck out in Scotland! The mists only part once every five years, you know. And Grandma McDuck serves the _best_ scones in the world.”

“I believe it,” Selene said.

“Not to mention, I’m sure that after five years I’ll have filled up all the databanks and notebooks I’ve brought with me—there’ll be so much to observe! Catalogue! Record for Junior Woodchuck Guidebook posterity!”

“So we’ll need to come back for more supplies, maybe do a press tour, soak in the glory. Then off to the stars again!” Dewey added.

“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it,” Lena assured the goddess.

At that moment, Webby and Violet entered (Captain and Science Officer, respectively), and Webby shrieked a welcome and hugged the goddess. Her cries of “ _I’m so glad you could make it!_ ” echoed all the way to the outside.

At the sound of her voice, Scrooge McDuck and Bentina Beakley, at the tea table, shared a look. It was a sympathetic look. Where Scrooge was rather put out, Mrs. Beakley was almost unable to speak.

“I’m going to miss that voice,” Scrooge offered.

Mrs. Beakley swallowed, and nodded. “So will I,” she admitted. She would cry later, when _The Hope of Selene_ had cleared the upper atmosphere. For now she could be stoic and cheerful—and it helped, really, to know that Scrooge would also miss her little Webbigail.

“She’s grown into a fine adventurer. And a good spy,” Scrooge added.

“And a good, generous soul, too, which is more than all the rest.”

“She’s always been a good girl.” Scrooge reflected, “Now— _The Hope of Selene’s_ captain! She’s learned to be a real leader. Sugar?”

“Thank you. Learned a lot, these past six years,” Mrs. Beakley reflected. “But they’ve got a lot more growing up to do—each one of them.”

“Aye. The stars’ll take care of that,” Scrooge said with a chuckle.

Mrs. Beakley didn’t answer. She kept gazing at the _Hope of Selene_. “I’m a little apprehensive. When that ship returns—“ she knocked on wood, because her intense SHUSH training couldn’t quite shake out all of the superstition—“Webby will be a seasoned space explorer. She’ll know all kinds of new things. No need for her fussy old granny then.”

“Nonsense. Webby will run to you first, to tell you all the exploits of her extraplanetary expeditions. She’ll always be your little protégée. Nothing can change that.”

“You old flatterer.” But she smiled.

The strum of guitar and a voice warming up—‘ _Let me see what spring is like on Jupiter and Mars…_ ’ “They’re playing our song,” Mrs. Beakley observed.

“Wot? That’s not ‘Million Dollar Baby,’” Scrooge complained, wiggling a finger in his ear.

“It’s close enough. Care to dance, Mr. McDuck?”

“Bentina, it’d be a pleasure.” He set down his teacup. Hand in hand, the two began to sashay across the asphalt.

The singer was, naturally, Jose Carioca, with Panchito accompanying him on guitar. “ _Fill my heart with song, and let me sing forevermore_ —Hello, Daisy!” 

“Hola, Jose! Hola, Panchito!” Daisy called back, giving a merry wave. She looked around and spotted her boyfriend on stage, playing accordion. “Donald!” She called. 

Donald saw her, quacked a mild “excuse me” to his company, and then ran across the pavement to meet Daisy and catch her in a tight hug. 

“You doing okay?” she asked him, then immediately began to fuss over his hair and uniform, without waiting for an answer. 

“Kids have been practically walking on air all week,” he replied. “At this rate outer space will be a letdown.” 

Daisy took his hand. “Are you okay?” she asked again.

Donald looked again at the spaceship. “I’m happy for the kids,” he said. “And after liftoff… well, I’ve got you.” 

Daisy snuggled closer to him and kissed his cheek, which he returned. 

“Heads up! Coming through!” came a cry from overhead. Gizmoduck whirred over them and made for the open airlock, where Huey was waving excitedly. 

“Fenton! I’m so glad you could make it!” Huey said when Gizmoduck landed and disengaged the suit. 

Fenton Crackshell-Cabrera still looked rather electronic even without any armor. Wiring stood out, shimmering, on his head, and across his right hand, and both his feet, and occasionally his teeth would start playing KDLU, _Duckburg’s Latinx Radio Station_ , and he’d need to smack his jaw lightly to silence it. The last few years had made him a true cyborg, but in his kind, enthusiastic smile, he was still one hundred percent Fenton. 

“We wouldn’t miss this for the world, are you kidding?” Fenton beamed. “Now remember to send back progress reports and messages about the amazing things you find among the stars! I’ll be waiting with bated breath… assuming I still need to breathe.” He shrugged. “You never know, life comes at you fast.” 

Huey laughed. “The progress reports are entered into my digital calendar. Never fear! And if I forget, Boyd will remind me.” 

“Hello, Fenton,” said Boyd, dialing down his foot rockets to land beside them. 

“Boyd, it’s good to see you. Have you gotten… taller?” 

Boyd nodded, in his patented little-bit-human, little-bit-not way. “Papa Gyro, Huey, and I worked on a new body for me. My original body was smaller and more expedient, but for myself, I like being the same height and size as all my friends. It furnishes the illusion that I am physically aging.” 

“... As long as you’re following your bliss,” Fenton said after a little pause. “You certainly look happy.” 

Boyd nodded again. His wristwatch began to beep. “Oh, Papa Gyro wants me to look over the shields again, just to be sure. It’s good to see you!” And he zoomed off. 

After a little more conversation, Huey stepped down onto the tarmac and gave the patented Junior Woodchuck No. 8 Whistle (Ear-splitting Variant). The six other crew members of _The Hope_ assembled around him. 

“Last minute suit checkup. Everything shipshape, Aunt Daisy?” Huey asked her. 

“Well, now, let’s just make triple sure,” Daisy replied. Together she and Fenton looked over the suits they had designed. They combined Lunar and Terran technology, and were suitable for everyday life in low-g as well as mildly perilous adventures (for _very_ perilous adventures, there were fancier suits which included helmets and small laser beams, accessible in the hold).

As the inspection went on, Della Duck found herself breathing quickly, too quickly. She was starting to hyperventilate. She tried to call for Donald or Scrooge, but no sound came out. She thumped her chest to try and breathe better, then—

“Hey. Are you alright?” 

She turned, and saw Tyrian and Indigo Sabrewing, Violet and Lena’s dads, looking at her worriedly. She knew they were trustworthy gentlemen, so she dared to be honest and vulnerable. She shook her head. 

“It’s going to be okay,” Indigo said in a soothing voice. He took her hand and held it—not tightly, but not casually either. “The kids will all look after each other.” 

Della nodded, and managed a slightly slower breath. “Space liftoffs—make me nervous,” she said, in a strained little voice. “Bad memories.” 

“I’ll get your brother,” Tyrian told her. 

“I don’t want him to worry—” Della protested, but he was already gone. 

“I know this is scary,” Indigo told her. “Can I tell you a secret?” 

She nodded. Indigo radiated calm. It was no wonder that Lena had taken so easily to being a member of their family. 

“There’s a part of me that wants to grab my girls,” Indigo went on, leaning in a bit, “and just keep them in the nest forever. But I know that won’t do them any good. Kids are made to learn, and grow, and, well, to fly.” 

Della nodded. Tears sprang to her eyes and she wiped them away. “I’m going to miss them so much.” 

“I know.” 

She swallowed hard. She wouldn’t spoil her kids’ big moment. “I guess we adults are going to look after each other, here, too.” 

“Absolutely,” Indigo agreed, as Tyrian and Donald arrived. Donald instantly knew what to do: he wrapped Della in a hug and asked, “Are you shipshape?”

“She’ll fly true,” Della replied, through some tears. That was a call and response as old as their twinship: it meant _we’ll get through this together_. That said, Donald told her to be brave, and promised applesauce with ham for dinner once they got back home. Della laughed. 

Webby’s voice carried over to them, as she said, “Then I guess it’s time for the goodbyes.”

For the goodbyes, Jose and Panchito stopped singing. They joined the throng of hugging, crying, best wishes, smiles, and promises for next time.

“Now remember, Dewey,” said Launchpad, kneeling down to see Dewey eye to eye (this was pure habit, by the way. Dewey’s latest growth spurt had rendered kneeling down unnecessary, but Dewey obligingly looked _down_ at Launchpad anyway), “as a pilot, you’re going to have to think on your feet and take your stars as you get them. Just as long as you follow your heart—” he tapped Dewey’s chest—“and remember to turn the parking brake on, and then—this is important!—off again.”

Dewey smiled, even as his eyes shone a little too brightly. “I’ll remember every one of your lessons, Launchpad.”

“Really? Wow. Even _I_ don’t remember all of them. But I’m glad to know that, little buddy.”

Around them there were more good wishes and promises for the future:

“Next time you’re planetside, we’ll visit Avalon again for those wonderful apple pies, promise.”

“Next time we meet, Uncle Scrooge, I’ll bring some stardust to stash in the Money Bin. Bet on it!”

“I’ll miss you so much, Dads—when we come back, I won’t leave the house for a week, I promise.”

Meanwhile, a record of _The Three Caballero’s Greatest Hit_ kept playing softly in the background. The title of the album was extraordinarily optimistic, but the music was heartfelt. The record crooned,

“ _We’ll meet again, little lark,_

_You’ll hop-scotch home in a gathering dark,_

_So don’t fear a windy moan;_

_Just follow my voice, and I’ll lead you home._ ”

Captain Webbigail settled herself in the captain’s chair. She lifted her chin proudly. “Alright. First Mate Huey, report!”

“First Mate Huey reporting,” he said, tugging the brim of his red cap. “Shields are in place, hold is secure, and drag chains are released. Sir!”

“Science Officer Violet, report!”

“Gravity engines are at full charge,” Violet told her. “Polarities ready to reverse.”

“Pilot Dewey?”

“Yes’m?”

“Reverse polarities, and engage thrusters.”

“Yes, Captain!” Dewey grinned hugely and took the levers in hand. “That’s-how-we- _Dewey­_ -it,” he whispered.

“Louie, bring up the monitor.”

Louie (who had refused any title or responsibility other than “the sharp one”) blankly regarded the console in front of him.

Huey saw his brother’s stare. “Did you not read the manual?”

“I specifically requested a simpler setup—“ Louie began.

“Red button with a speaker logo,” Lena whispered to him.

“Thanks,” he said, pressing the button. It brought up the camera from the tarmac, where their families still stood, watching liftoff. As Violet began the countdown, Donald Duck saluted _The Hope of Selene_. His nephews immediately returned the salute—even Louie.

Uncle Scrooge said something, but the sound didn’t carry.

“What’s he saying—“ Dewey began, then Louie held up a hand to silence him.

Dewey glared at his brother, but Louie jerked his head towards Huey, who was staring at the screen in deep focus. “Junior Woodchuck Badge for Advanced Lip-Reading, remember?” Louie whispered.

Huey read out, “‘Get into… plenty… of trouble, kids.’”

“Well, that’s an order we can’t refuse,” said Captain Webby with a laugh.

“Five, four— _Dewey_ —three, two, one.” Violet looked pointedly at Dewey.

He was ready. “Engage! Turn off the brakes and let this baby fly!”

The engine roared and the entire ship shook. The rockets blared out from her base, and the spherical engine whirred and whirled into life. _The Hope of Selene_ lifted off.

“Next stop, the stars!” crowed Captain Webbigail. On the intercom they heard the fading sounds of their friends and family cheering.

As they lifted off, the fields around Duckburg came into view. Then the landscape started to shrink, until they could see their home city as a pointillist map along the coast. The North American shoreline, familiar from so many globes, came into clear view. Clouds and storms do-si-do’d around the horizon, and the sunlight glimmered on the sea. Then the curve of the planet came into sight: good old Earth, with her continents and paper cups, oceans and chaparral zones, the planet of dumplings, crepes with nutella, and nutmeg tea. Home.

As _The Hope_ cleared the upper atmosphere, Dewey engaged the thrusters. The world turned into stripes of lilac and black, dashed with iridescent blue. Earth and the Moon shrank, and the open starfield beckoned to them—Mars, Venus, Mercury on its whizz-bang course, and the dim glitter of the asteroid belt. Around them loomed the void. In the ship, their cheers and laughter rebounded off the walls. _The Hope_ set off, looking for adventure.


End file.
